


Missing In Action

by Sed



Category: Tron: Uprising
Genre: Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:24:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed





	Missing In Action

“Let’s see what’s under that mask,” Tesler said with a broad smile. He nodded to Pavel, and the obsequious little codeworm disappeared behind the Renegade to access his disc.  
  
The program was strung up, hanging from his wrists on lightwires that burned through his suit, leaving angry, neon red wounds radiating out from where they had been wrapped tight around his skin. He was offline for the moment, for no other reason than Tesler had grown tired of listening to him bluster and stall for time. There was no time left for Argon’s hero.  
  
With a click, the helmet fragmented into individual plates and retracted, leaving Tesler staring at a program who not only wasn’t Tron, he wasn’t anyone the general even _recognized_. “Who is he?” he asked.  
  
Pavel ducked his head under the Renegade’s arm to look at the general. “He’s a mechanic, sir.”  
  
“Designation?”  
  
“Beck.”  
  
Tesler walked a wide circle around the program, looking over the silver and white suit, and the dull, pulsing lights that indicated his imminent return to consciousness. Not many programs would have returned from a forced reboot so quickly; this Beck must have been some program, even before he chose to foolishly pick the wrong side in the occupation. “Get rid of his suit,” Tesler ordered. Pavel only blinked and stared in wide-eyed confusion. “Do I have to repeat myself?”  
  
“No, sir.” With another quick series of taps to the program’s disc interface, all the silver and white began to fade, leaving Beck exposed, helpless, and at Tesler’s mercy.  
  
Maybe mercy wasn’t the best word.  
  
“You can leave,” he informed the lieutenant. “And tell Paige not to bother me until I send for her. The same goes for you.”  
  
Pavel bowed obediently and made for the door. In his peripheral Tesler could see the lieutenant turn back before he stepped through, and then the door shut behind him, leaving the general alone with his long-sought after nemesis: a lithe little mechanic named Beck, who was just a few micros from waking up into his worst nightmare.  
  
  
  
\-----  
  
  
  
Beck pulled against his restraints. Again. “What do you think will happen if you do that enough?” Tesler asked.  
  
“I don’t know, maybe I’ll get out of here. What do you think will happen, and why does it bother you so much if I try?”  
  
Tesler chuckled and shifted the hand on Beck’s shoulder down to his chest and around his side. Circuits flared involuntarily where he touched, showing a hilarious lack of self control on the smaller program’s part. “I think you’ll burn through your wrists, and end up with no hands at all. But don’t let that stop you.”  
  
Beck pulled on both wires at once, lifting himself off the floor and sending a surge of power rolling down the crimson rope to burn him in retribution. He let out a pained cry and sagged on his feet, held up for the moment by nothing more than the strength of the wires. Tesler had wandered behind him, trailing his fingers over sensitive circuits and leaving them alight with shame and rage in his wake. “Just derez me already, if that’s what you plan to do,” Beck huffed through the pain. “I won’t tell you anything.”  
  
“You will, I’ll see to it.”  
  
“Good luck with that,” the mechanic sneered.  
  
Tesler’s grin turned to a dangerous snarl, and he gripped a tight fistful of Beck’s hair, jerking his head back as he towered over the smaller program menacingly. His own circuits grated against the pale blue lines on Beck’s back, and the mechanic winced in discomfort. For a few long moments Tesler stared down at his captive, contemplating all the ways he could punish him for the abundant sarcasm he seemed to enjoy so much. He had a feeling such brutal methods would only prove to be counterproductive, however. Eventually he relented, letting go of Beck’s hair and stepping back with a smile. There were plenty of other ways to work with uncooperative prisoners.  
  
“It’s easy to look at us as your enemies,” he began, holding his arms out wide and gesturing to the red-lined walls that surrounded them. “You are a captive, after all. But we in Clu’s service like to take a slightly different approach when a program shows certain promise. I think you know what I’m talking about.”  
  
“Maybe you should tell me, my memory is still a little fuzzy from that reboot.”  
  
Tesler grinned, and he could see the uncertainty blossoming on the other program’s face. He had been hoping for an answer like that. “Maybe I should.”  
  
A quietly broadcast signal brought two sentries into the room, where they proceeded to remove Beck’s restraints, bring him down to his knees on the tiled floor, and cuff his hands behind his back. He struggled in their grasp, trying to wrench himself sideways to escape, but the soldiers on Tesler’s ship were well accustomed to handling unruly prisoners. They held him in place until the new restraints locked, and released him only on a nod from the general. After that they were sent back outside to wait.  
  
“Too good to do the dirty work yourself?” Beck asked, still aiming for a level of bravado that was quickly losing its humorous appeal. He tried standing up, but his legs were weak, and he stumbled back down to his knees after only a moment. He obviously needed energy, but depriving him until he begged for it would be so much more practical, and much more amusing.  
  
“We’re going to play a little game, _Beck_.” Tesler spat out the program’s name like a curse. He wanted to make sure the little mechanic knew just what the occupation thought of him on every level, in every guise. “Every time you answer one of my questions—and I deem the information worthwhile—you’ll be rewarded. How does that sound?”  
  
“And if I don’t answer?”  
  
“You’ll be punished, of course. The game isn’t worth playing unless there is a consequence for failure.” Tesler clasped his hands behind his back and slowly made his way over to a sliding panel on the wall.  
  
He could hear Beck shifting in his restraints, but when he turned, the young program was still kneeling where he’d been deposited by the sentries. “What if you don’t like my answer?” he asked, and finally a hint of fear started to creep into his voice. It was so satisfying to hear.  
  
In response, Tesler turned around and derezzed his cloak, followed quickly by the pauldrons that sat atop his suit. Without turning, he placed a hand on the panel door, opening it, and revealing a host of gadgets that might not have looked out of place in Pavel’s workshop. Tesler saw the fear in Beck’s eyes, then, and he fought the urge to laugh—he had no intention of using any implements of torture on the mechanic. For all he knew, the boy would be able to resist breaking until the pain had pushed him too far, and then Tesler wouldn’t have anything to show for his work but a pile of cubes. Beck had no way of knowing that, of course, and the threat would probably be enough to make him behave, for now. “So, you see? It’s a very simple game.”  
  
“I don’t think I want to play,” Beck said anxiously.  
  
Acting on impulse, Tesler opened his questions with the one that had been nagging him since Pavel removed the boy’s mask: “Who are you working for?”  
  
Beck looked down at the floor and squeezed his eyes shut. Obviously, he didn’t want to answer.  
  
“ _Who are you working for?_ ” Tesler repeated more forcefully. There was no way a wiry little mechanic could reach so far outside his programming to learn the fighting skills that the Renegade possessed, no matter how impressive he was. He was being helped by another program, and that program was smart enough, and experienced enough, to know not to attempt a rescue from the enemy stronghold. Beck had probably been told that he would be abandoned if he was ever captured; Tesler had a feeling the reality of that hadn’t ever actually occurred to him, though. From the way he kept glancing around, kept trying to stall for time, it seemed as though he expected someone to come for him. With each passing micro, it became obvious that he was starting to understand the truth. “Whoever it is,” Tesler continued, “they obviously don’t value your life very much.”  
  
“That’s not true,” Beck said quickly.  
  
Tesler shrugged. “Isn’t it? I tell my soldiers that I’ll leave them behind if they fail—”  
  
“You obviously don’t value _their_ lives very much, then.”  
  
Another signal brought Paige into the room, where she stopped cold in the doorway, staring at the program kneeling naked and bound in the middle of the floor. “Sir?”  
  
“Lieutenant Paige, tell me, have I ever left you to die?”  
  
Paige seemed to hesitate, and then she straightened up, looked the general square in the eye, and said firmly, “No.”  
  
“Excellent. And have I ever given you reason to believe that I would allow an enemy to capture you, torture you for information, or violate you in any way?” The last part had been meant for Beck, but the boy seemed too stupid to understand the obvious threat.  
  
After another pause, Paige said, “No, sir.”  
  
“Thank you, lieutenant. You can go.”  
  
She lingered in the doorway just long enough to exchange a glance with the prisoner. Once she was gone, Tesler held his arms out wide and shrugged. “So, you see, Beck? It’s one thing to motivate your soldiers with the idea that they’ll be left behind, but it’s another thing entirely if you actually _do it_. I would never leave any of the programs under my command.”  
  
“How do you know I’ll be left here?” Beck demanded. His question more than answered Tesler’s, confirming not only the existence of another party, hidden somewhere in the shadows and manipulating the younger program, but also the boy’s desperate need to believe in the program who had taught him. That last bit provided interesting leverage.  
  
The general made his way back across the room, where he knelt in front of the mechanic. “Do you know how long you’ve been here?” he asked. It was a cruel ploy, but if it worked, it would speed the process considerably.  
  
“I—” Beck paused, his eyes darting back and forth wildly as he tried to access memory that no longer existed. He had Pavel to thank for that.  
  
“I’ll tell you,” Tesler said, standing again. “It’s been a quarter of a cycle, with zero attempts made on the ship’s perimeter. Yes, I said perimeter,” he added when Beck’s eyes widened a fraction. “We’re on the ground, and we have been for some time. It would be easy to make an attempt on the ship, but no one is trying to rescue you. Don’t you think they would have by now? Especially after _so long?_ ”  
  
“Tron wouldn’t—” Beck started to shout, but stopped himself short before he could finish.  
  
“ _Tron?_ There’s that name again! Tron is _dead_ , program. He got in the way, and Clu had him derezzed. Trying to bring him back won’t change the facts.”  
  
Beck didn’t respond right away, but finally he chuckled quietly to himself and looked up at the general. “So, was that the answer you were looking for?”  
  
“Not quite.”  
  
“That’s a shame.”  
  
Tesler derezzed the armor plates on his own chest and arms. “More than you know.”


End file.
